Caspian kneels on the dock beside a small wooden boat. The boat lies upside down on two trestles, and its white paint is cracked like dry mud. In his hand he holds a scraper. On the bench behind him sits a snow globe.
卡斯皮安跪在码头上，旁边是一条小木船。船底朝天架在两个支架上，白漆像干裂的泥巴一样龟裂。他手里拿着一把刮刀，身后的长凳上放着一个雪花球。
Hiba arrives with two paper cups of juice and a bag of sandpaper. She is sixteen, like Caspian, and she has promised to spend her Saturday helping him.
西芭拿着两杯纸杯装的果汁和一袋砂纸来了。她和卡斯皮安一样，都是十六岁，她答应过要陪他度过这个星期六。
"You look worn out already," she says.
“你看上去已经累坏了，”她说。
"I have been here since seven," Caspian says. "The boat must be ready for the harbour regatta, and the office wants its name by noon."
“我七点就在这儿了，”卡斯皮安说，“这条船得准备好参加港口帆船赛，办公室要求中午之前报上船名。”
"Its name? Doesn't it have one?"
“船名？它没有名字吗？”
"That is the problem." He puts down the scraper and wipes his hands on his shirt. "My dad bought it years ago from a man who never said. The papers say 'name unknown'. If I don't paint a name on the stern by noon, the boat cannot race."
“问题就在这儿。”他放下刮刀，在衬衫上擦了擦手。“我爸爸多年前从一个人手里买下它，那人从没说过。文件上写的是‘船名不详’。如果中午之前我不在船尾漆上名字，这条船就不能参赛。”
Hiba laughs, but he does not. She looks at the boat. It is small and round, with a faded line along the side. It looks like a boat that has forgotten something.
西芭笑了，他却没笑。她看着那条船，小小的，圆圆的，船身一侧有一道褪色的线条，像是一条忘掉了什么的船。
"And the snow globe?" she asks.
“那个雪花球呢？”她问。
Caspian's face changes. He picks the globe up very carefully with both hands, as if it were a sleeping bird. Inside the glass, a tiny blue boat sits on a painted wave. The water is cloudy, and a heap of white flakes lies at the bottom.
卡斯皮安的脸色变了。他用双手非常小心地捧起雪花球，仿佛那是一只睡着的小鸟。玻璃里面，一条小小的蓝船停在一朵画出来的浪上。水有些浑浊，底部堆着一小堆白色的雪花。
"I found it yesterday," he says. "It was in a locker under the back seat, wrapped in an old cloth. Look at the little boat."
“我昨天找到的，”他说，“它在后座下面的储物柜里，裹着一块旧布。你看那条小船。”
Hiba bends closer. The tiny boat has a yellow stripe along its side and a round window at the front. It is exactly the same shape as the boat on the trestles.
西芭凑近看。那条小船的侧面有一道黄色条纹，船头有一个圆窗。它的形状和支架上的那条船一模一样。
"It's a model of this one," she says.
“它是这条船的模型，”她说。
"I think so. And I think the paint on the model is the real paint. The boat was blue and yellow once. Somebody painted over it in white." Caspian touches the glass with one finger. "There are tiny letters on the front of the model. I think that is the boat's name."
“我也这么想。而且我觉得模型上的颜色才是真正的涂装。这条船从前是蓝色和黄色的，后来有人把它漆成了白色。”卡斯皮安用一根手指碰了碰玻璃。“模型的船头有几个小小的字母，我想那就是船的名字。”
"So read it."
“那就读出来啊。”
"I can't. The snow is lying on top of the letters." He pauses. "The only way to move it is to shake the globe. But my dad says the glue on the base is old. One hard shake, and the water will leak out and ruin it. Hiba, I need you to promise me something."
“读不了。雪花盖住了字母。”他顿了顿。“要想把它弄开，唯一的办法是摇晃雪花球。可我爸爸说底座的胶很旧了，用力一摇，水就会漏出来，雪花球就毁了。西芭，我需要你答应我一件事。”
"What?"
“什么事？”
"Do not shake it. Not once. Not even a little. Promise."
“不要摇它。一下也不行，轻轻地也不行。你答应我。”
"I promise," Hiba says, and she holds out her hand. Caspian puts the globe into it. It is heavier than she expects, and it feels as cold as a stone.
“我答应你，”西芭说着伸出手。卡斯皮安把雪花球放到她手里。它比她想的更重，摸上去像石头一样冰凉。
They work for an hour. Caspian scrapes the old paint, and Hiba follows with the sandpaper. White dust blows over the dock and settles in her hair. Every few minutes, she glances at the globe. She has placed it on a flat cloth beside her knee.
他们干了一个小时。卡斯皮安刮掉旧漆，西芭跟在后面用砂纸打磨。白色的粉尘在码头上飞扬，落在她的头发上。每隔几分钟，她就瞥一眼雪花球。她把它放在膝盖旁边的一块平整的布上。
At half past ten, the sandpaper reveals something on the back of the boat. Hiba stops. Under the white paint, the wood has faint marks, like the ghost of a handwritten word. She rubs gently with her thumb.
十点半，砂纸在船尾磨出了一些东西。西芭停了下来。白漆底下，木头上有一些淡淡的痕迹，像一个手写字的影子。她用拇指轻轻揉擦。
"Caspian, look. There are letters. I can see an M, and maybe an R."
“卡斯皮安，你看。有字母。我能看到一个 M，也许还有一个 R。”
Caspian drops his scraper and crouches beside her. The marks are shallow, and the paint has filled most of them. "M, something, R," he says. "Something, something, something, something."
卡斯皮安扔下刮刀，蹲到她身边。痕迹很浅，油漆填满了大部分。“M，什么，R，”他说，“什么，什么，什么，什么。”
"That helps a lot," Hiba says.
“这可帮了大忙，”西芭说。
"It's a start."
“总算是个开头。”
By eleven the sun is high, and they still have no name. A woman from the harbour office walks along the dock with a clipboard. She stops beside them and taps her watch.
到十一点，太阳已经很高了，他们仍然没有名字。港口办公室的一位女士拿着写字板沿着码头走来。她在他们旁边停下，敲了敲自己的手表。
"One hour," she says. "After that, I write 'unnamed' on the form, and the boat watches the race from the shore."
“还剩一小时，”她说，“过了时间，我就在表格上写‘未命名’，这条船只能在岸上看比赛了。”
"We know," Caspian says.
“我们知道，”卡斯皮安说。
The woman leaves. Caspian sits on the edge of the dock with his head in his hands. Hiba looks at the globe, and then at the flakes that cover the tiny letters. The bow of the little boat is a white cloud.
女士走了。卡斯皮安坐在码头边上，双手捧着头。西芭看着雪花球，又看着盖住那些小字的雪花。小船的船头是一团白云。
"I could shake it a little," Caspian says. "Just once. I could be gentle."
“我可以稍微摇一下，”卡斯皮安说，“就一次，我会很轻的。”
"You made me promise," Hiba says.
“是你让我答应的，”西芭说。
"I know. I am the one who made you promise. Maybe I was wrong."
“我知道，是我让你答应的。也许我错了。”
"Maybe," she says. "But I promised. If you shake it, you do it yourself."
“也许吧，”她说，“可我答应过了。你要摇的话，自己来。”
Caspian looks at the globe for a long time. His hand moves towards it, and then it stops in the air. He puts the hand in his pocket.
卡斯皮安看了雪花球很久。他的手朝它伸去，又停在半空，然后插进了口袋。
"No," he says. "My dad would rather have the globe than the race."
“不，”他说，“我爸爸宁愿要这个雪花球，也不要这场比赛。”
Hiba picks up the globe. If she cannot shake it, perhaps she can tilt it. She turns it slowly on its side, so slowly that the water barely moves. A few flakes slide, but most of them stay in a stubborn heap. She tries tapping her finger on the glass, and the heap does not move. She tries the light of her phone, and the letters shine and then vanish in the cloud.
西芭拿起雪花球。如果不能摇，也许可以倾斜。她把它慢慢侧过来，慢得水几乎不动。几片雪花滑了下去，但大部分仍然固执地堆在一起。她又试着用手指敲玻璃，那堆雪纹丝不动。她又用手机的光照着，字母闪了一下，随即消失在云雾里。
"It's no use," she says. "The snow is glued to the boat."
“没用，”她说，“雪花好像粘在船上了。”
Out on the water, a large ferry sounds its horn. It leaves the harbour with a deep, slow roar. Hiba stands at the edge of the dock, still holding the globe in both hands. She watches the long wave that the ferry makes. It spreads across the water towards the dock.
水面上，一艘大渡轮鸣响了汽笛，伴着低沉而缓慢的轰鸣驶出港口。西芭站在码头边上，仍然双手捧着雪花球。她看着渡轮激起的那道长长的浪，朝码头这边扩散开来。
"Caspian," she says. "Hold my elbow."
“卡斯皮安，”她说，“扶住我的胳膊肘。”
"Why?"
“为什么？”
"Just hold it."
“扶着就是了。”
The wave reaches the dock. The whole wooden floor rises and falls with a long, soft movement, and the trestles creak. Hiba keeps her feet apart and her hands very still. She does not shake the globe. She only holds it while the harbour moves.
浪到了码头。整个木头地面随着一种悠长而轻柔的动作起伏，支架嘎吱作响。西芭双脚分开，双手稳稳不动。她没有摇雪花球，只是托着它，任由港口在动。
Inside the glass, the white heap trembles. It breaks into many small flakes that rise in a slow, gentle cloud. They turn, drift, and settle again. For a few seconds, the little boat sits clear and bright on its painted wave.
玻璃里面，那堆白色颤动起来，散成许多小小的雪花，缓缓升成一团轻柔的云。它们旋转，飘荡，又重新落下。有那么几秒钟，小船清晰明亮地停在画出来的浪头上。
On its bow, in thin gold letters, is a single word.
船头上，用细细的金色字母写着一个单词。
"Marigold," Hiba reads.
“Marigold，”西芭念道。
"Marigold," Caspian says. He says it again, more softly. "M, A, R, I, G, O, L, D. That matches your marks."
“Marigold，”卡斯皮安说。他又说了一遍，声音更轻了。“M，A，R，I，G，O，L，D。和你找到的痕迹对得上。”
They both look at the stern of the real boat, at the faint letters under the dust. Hiba laughs and puts the globe on the cloth, exactly where it was. She has not shaken it once.
他们一起看向真船的船尾，看向灰尘底下那些淡淡的字母。西芭笑了，把雪花球放回布上，放在原来的位置。她一次也没有摇过它。
"I kept my promise," she says. "The harbour broke it for me."
“我守住了承诺，”她说，“是港口替我打破了它。”
Caspian picks up a brush and opens a can of gold paint. He does not start yet. He looks at the blue boat in the glass, and then at the white one on the trestles. His voice is quiet.
卡斯皮安拿起一把刷子，打开了一罐金漆。他还没有动手，而是看着玻璃里的蓝船，又看着支架上的白船。他的声音很轻。
"Then who painted Marigold white, Hiba, and why did they want her name to disappear?"
“那么，是谁把 Marigold 漆成了白色，西芭？他们为什么想让她的名字消失？”
